“Thank you,” Edward replied and walked away. Although it felt good to have proven himself to someone like Jonathan Stokes who’d been nothing but a pain in his royal ass for months, he couldn’t shake a sense of emptiness.
Violin music floated in the air, as a server approached him.
“Hors d’oeuvre, Prince Edward?” she offered.
He eyed the tray of what looked like crab cakes topped with caviar.
“No, thank you,” he said and pushed further into the ballroom. Everything looked perfect from the golden balloons floating near the ceiling to the dazzling chandelier Clementine had rejuvenated.
Suddenly he realized why he was feeling so ill at ease. Clementine was nowhere to be seen. The realization of her absence was a punch to his gut. She should be here with him, celebrating their accomplishment. Where was she?
A tall man with a bright purple bow tie approached Edward, his hand outstretched. “Prince Edward,” he gushed. “Let me express my appreciation for your work here.” He leaned closer, a snide look on his face. “I wasn’t quite on board with your restoration plans. I’m of the thought that we should clear out the old to make room for the new, you know. But you’ve done an impressive job here.”
Edward narrowed his eyes at the man. “Mister…Middleton, is it?” The man was one of his father’s associates, but Edward had only met him a handful of times.
“That’s right—Stuart Middleton. I’m an adviser to your father,” he said. “By the way, nice work closing on the Glen County farmhouse. You got it for a steal.”
“Excuse me?” Edward hadn’t realized his father had already made his move on the property. He’d wanted to look into it for Clem first. A sick feeling came over him.
“That property is the perfect setting for condos. As soon as you tear down the rickety old farmhouse, you’ll be set.”
“I’m sorry,” Edward said and started away from the smarmy man. “I have to talk with my father.”
The king stood near the bar, clinking champagne glasses with a man Edward recognized as one of his father’s attorneys. As he approached, he heard them laughing.
“Father, can I have a word?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” the king said. “Excuse me, Brian, I need to talk with my son, the miracle worker. Brian and I were just saying that what you’ve done here is nothing short of magical.”
“Bravo, young man,” Brian said. “And all within the deadline. You really know how to get the historical society off of your old man’s back!”
King Hanson and his lawyer were laughing again, and Edward recognized that it wasn’t the work he and Clementine had done, the actual restoration, that impressed his father. Salvaging the castle was a means to an end—the end being satisfying the historical society so that they could move forward with other projects under less scrutiny. His father didn’t care about the castle.
Of course, he hadn’t cared about it either at the beginning. It was only after getting to know Clem that he learned to see the importance of working hard to restore beautiful things, like the Kawell Castle. He still believed in progress and innovation, but he no longer felt that tearing down the past was the only way to build for the future. For better or for worse, she’d left a lasting impression on him and maybe even helped him to uncover what he really valued.
And how had he repaid her? By failing to protect her dreams for the future.
“Did you purchase the Glen County farmhouse?” he asked his father. He was finished with the congratulations, the pomp and the air of celebration.
“I certainly did,” his father proclaimed. “That property is a goldmine, and we couldn’t afford to lose it.”
At once, he knew why Clem wasn’t here celebrating with him. A chill ran down his arms, as he turned from his father and began walking away.
“Where are you off to, son?” his father called after him.
Edward didn’t bother to turn around and face his father when he answered. “I need to find someone.”
He searched high and low, in every wing and room of Kawell Castle. But no matter where he turned, he couldn’t find her.
Clementine Wicke was gone.
13
A shimmer of dust mites billowed in the artificial light inside the shop as Edward pushed into Wicke Salvage, where he saw Clem standing behind the back counter. He knew it was late, but he’d hoped to find her here. At the sound of the jangling bells on the door, her head shot up in surprise. It was after closing time, but she must have forgotten to lock the door. At once, her eyes shone with what looked like hope to Edward, but they quickly drained of all emotion. She eyed him blandly then looked back down at an iron doorknocker she was polishing.
“Can we talk?” Edward asked. He took the liberty to cover her hand with his, but she pulled away as if he were on fire.
“I’m busy at the moment.” She began arranging things behind the counter. Edward’s heart squeezed inside his chest as he watched her. “There’s nothing to say anyway, Edward.”
“Listen, Clem, as soon as I realized you were gone, I left the gala to come looking for you.”
She stopped what she was doing and gave him a once over, looking altogether unimpressed.
“Well, now’s not a good time,” she said. “Go back to the gala. You apparently have a lot to celebrate.”
Edward heard the cold sneer in her voice and knew she was referring to the acquisition of the farmhouse.
“I swear I didn’t know we made that purchase until about an hour ago, when my father told me.” Edward was not above pleading at this point. “My father did it all on his own.”
Clem eyed him silently then. Her shoulder sagged, and her fight seemed to fall away. One question tumbled from her lips, slaying him.
“Did you even ask your father to consider not purchasing the farmhouse?”
He said nothing and looked away, shame pooling in his gut, regret swallowing him.
“That’s what I thought,” Clem said and nodded sadly. “Look, Edward, at this point, it really doesn’t matter anymore who pulled the trigger on the purchase. You didn’t fight to save it.” She paused and spoke more quietly. “You didn’t care enough about my dreams to try to save them.”
Edward’s heart twisted at her words. Mostly because he knew she was right. He had been so consumed with finishing up the castle and planning the gala, that he hadn’t even gone to his father about the farmhouse. He’d assumed it could wait.
How was he going to fix this now?
“Let me make this up to you,” he begged. “I can buy you any property you want. Any land—your choice. I’ll build you a huge new house. You can design it.”
The look on Clem’s face made Edward regret his suggestion almost before the words left his lips. He should have known better than to offer to build her a new house—that had never been her dream. He was digging a hole for himself, deeper with every word he said.
In frustration he ran a hand through his hair and besieged her with his eyes. “Please, Clem, I need you to forgive me.”
Clem drew one long breath in and then let it out before responding to Edward. Even though he’d broken her heart and trashed her dreams, she still had feelings for him. Feelings she needed to extinguish—the sooner the better. Clearly they were going nowhere, and now that the castle project was finished, he would be out of her life completely. She could forget him—just as soon as she could get him to leave.